


Dating Rules

by officerstilinskihale



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: But also, Explaining the existence of werewolves to the Sheriff, Humor, I've just moved into College, M/M, Stiles you fail babe, and I needed to practice my writing, and so much fail, and this is what i came out with, anyway um, but eh, give it a go i suppose, it's kind of fail!stiles, there's lots of laugh, ughh, why do people let me outside?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-08
Updated: 2013-09-08
Packaged: 2017-12-26 00:20:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/959336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/officerstilinskihale/pseuds/officerstilinskihale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p class="MsoNormal">"I didn't know," Stiles complained before he glared at Derek. "Why haven't you tried to kiss me then?" he demanded, ignoring the pained noise the Sheriff made, though he felt a rush of satisfaction when he noticed the tips of Derek's ears flushing pink.<span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal">"I…" Derek trailed off, unsure, before sparing a look to the Sheriff. "You wanna do this now? I mean," he coughed, his blush spreading across his cheekbones. "You wanna have this discussion now?"<span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal">After thinking about it for a moment, Stiles shook his head, before reaching over to squeeze Derek's hand in his own. "For the record though, I would totally go out with you if you asked."<span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal">"When," Derek corrected him with a small smile. "And I—now, yes?"<span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal">Stiles beamed. "Like, right now, you mean? Yes, absolutely."<span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal">Stiles slumped back in his chair, all of his muscles suddenly relaxing before he turned to his dad with a beatific smile. "How about we start over?" he said and the Sheriff resisted the urge to drown himself in his whiskey.<span></span></p>
            </blockquote>





	Dating Rules

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Scruffy_Wolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scruffy_Wolf/gifts), [stuck-in-the-same-place](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=stuck-in-the-same-place).



> dedicated to [Ellen](http://captainscruffywolf.tumblr.com/), because this was her prompt and I love her so much.  
> It is also dedicated to [Maria](http://stuck-in-the-same-place.tumblr.com/), because she is a gorgeous human being and she's been deaf for about a year and a couple of months, but just recently got her hearing back. Babe, I'm so glad we became friends and I hope this makes you smile, because you deserve everything this whole world has to offer. I love you :)
> 
> I've not written in the longest time, so this is probably terrible, but yeah, sorry?
> 
> Unbeta'd, but yeah, I've looked over it so many times that I'm kind of sick of it now.

"So Derek's a werewolf?"

" _Yes_ ," Stiles sighed in exasperation, shutting his eyes for a moment. "And so is Scott, Isaac, Boyd, Erica, Jackson anddddd," he paused, thinking for a moment before nodding at nothing. "Cora, Derek's sister."

"Don't forget Peter," Derek added from where he was standing next to Stiles' window, his arms crossed over his shirtless chest.

The Sheriff looked confused. "Who's Peter?"

"Peter Hale, dad!" Stiles said at the same time Derek muttered,

"My uncle."

"Derek's uncle…" the Sheriff trailed off in disbelief before whipping his head around to more effectively stare Derek down. "Peter Hale, the missing, and presumed dead, may I add, comatose patient."

Stiles winced. "That's the one!" he said, too brightly, before gesturing to Derek's bloody yet unmarred (and still unbelievably perfect) chest with a flourish. "Perks of being a werewolf, dad. Magic healing!"

"Right," the Sheriff said, looking a little overwhelmed. "I still don't get the whole Kamina thing. It's controlled by a darach?"

Stiles gaped at his dad and Derek let out a world-weary sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and his forefinger.

"No, god, dad a darach is a werewolf emissary gone evil and a kanima is a giant reptile lizard with paralytic liquid oozing out of its claws," Stiles curled his hands into claws and scratched at the air a few times for emphasis. "It's essentially a revenge weapon of mass murder, because it's controlled by a master, who uses it for his or her evil bidding. It's also Jackson."

The Sheriff stared at his son for a long moment.

"I thought you said Jackson was a werewolf!"

"Right, but  _before he was a werewolf_ , he was the kanima," Stiles said before he nodded at Derek. "Peter and Derek had to kill him then he came back to life because of Lydia. Then he moved to London."

"Lydia Martin is a part of this?" the Sheriff sounded horribly lost, but Stiles plowed on, oblivious.

"Yeah, she's a banshee," he said absently, looking down at the supernatural herb kit on his lap, carefully corking the wolfsbane vial and slotting it back down in its spot between the mistletoe as the cayenne pepper (Stiles had asked Deaton what it was for so he could be prepared for any situation in the future and he had never regretted a decision more. Even just thinking about it made him shudder.) before he glanced up at Derek's suddenly furious gaze. "But dad, that's not important!" he added quickly. "The point is that there is a pair of angry gargoyles on the loose and they attacked Derek and that is why Derek is here. Without a shirt. And also the bit about the bleeding, that part's important, too."

"Gargoyles," the Sheriff said flatly, eyeing Derek's bloody t-shirt lying innocently on the floor. Stiles nodded, his face serious.

"They're stone statues that sometimes come to life to attack people. They can fly."

"Right," the Sheriff repeated before he heaved a sigh and ran a hand over his face. "Is there anything else I should know?"

"Yes!" Stiles said a little too eagerly, jerking in his computer chair and flailing his arms to try and stop the wooden box from sliding off his lap and onto the floor. "Technically, according to the bestiary, that's a book of supernatural records and stuff, by the way, kinda like a supernatural bible, gargoyles aren't usually evil or particularly violent. They used to be placed outside temples to protect them and ward off spirits with malicious intent and all that. They also don't usually have wolfsbane-tipped claws," Stiles explained, waving his hands around to encompass the enormity of what he was saying and brushing past Derek to replace the box behind his bookshelf. "So we're thinking maybe some sort of Mage is controlling them. We don't exactly have a motive yet, but after a few more hours of research, I think I'll be able to—"

"Enough Stiles," Derek cut in smoothly, jerking his head to where Stiles' father was blinking slowly, his eyes wide. "You can explain the rest tomorrow."

"Yeah, no," Stiles rubbed his hands awkwardly together. "That's a pretty good idea," he conceded, getting up from where he had sunk down onto his bed. "Dinner tomorrow, dad. I'll tell you everything."

The Sheriff nodded, his face still frozen in shock, and turned around to walk out of Stiles' room, muttering, "I need a drink. Maybe two. Or ten."

Stiles made a face at his father's retreating back but didn't call him out on it, because he knew his dad's shift started in a few hours, and his dad was nothing if not dedicated to his job. He ambled over to his dresser and plucked up an old, oversized shirt from his "Supernatural Shit Happens" drawer, tossing it over to Derek.

"Put your nipples away before they blind someone," he hissed, ignoring the way his heart stuttered almost imperceptibly when Derek's mouth twitched in amusement.

Derek pulled the shirt over his head and reached out to touch Stiles' shoulder. "Hey, thanks," he said quietly, before making an angry noise in the back of his throat when Stiles waved his gratitude away with a careless flick of his wrist. "I'm serious, Stiles. Call me and tell me how dinner with your dad goes, okay?"

Stiles nodded.

"Get some sleep," Derek reminded him as he scooped his jacket where it was hanging off the back of Stiles' computer chair, half-smiling when Stiles let out a snort because that was in no way going to happen. "Night, Stiles."

"Night, sourwolf," Stiles replied, shutting the window to Derek's outraged,

"I  _told_  you to stop calling me that!"

Shaking his head at himself, Stiles swiped the ruined shirt from his bedroom floor and lobbed it at his trash bin, where it fell in perfectly, not even touching the rim.

Boom. Three points for Stilinski.

+++

"Okay, so, to help speed things along, I've made a PowerPoint," Stiles announced the next night, pulling his laptop out of his bag with a grand gesture over pizza (vegetarian, of course).

His father groaned at the screen, creatively titled "The full (completely accurate and unbiased) story of Beacon for the Supernatural Hills" by Stiles 'the awesome' Stilinski. "Oh god."

"Dad!" Stiles' head jerked up to glare at him, offended. The Sheriff shook his head and made a ' _go on then_ ' motion with his hand.

"So  _this_ ," Stiles pointed at a crude approximation of a house on the screen. "Is the Hale house. As you know, it burnt down eight years ago because of Kate Argent," Stiles shifted the focus to the small stick figure on the screen with blonde hair. "She and all the other Argents are werewolf hunters. Some of them follow a code but others, Kate and her father Gerard, don't. Laura, Derek's older sister, and Derek thought that they were the only survivors aside from Peter," Stiles gestured towards the figure with X's for eyes and an arrow that said 'Creepy Uncle Re-Pete DO NOT TRUST HIM', "Who as you know was in a coma. But they didn't realize Cora also surviv—"

"When did you start dating Derek Hale?"

The Sheriff enjoyed the brief moment when Stiles seemed to choke on his own spit, his eyes widening and his whole face flushing a deep red.

"I—dad… you—" he stuttered, waving his arms around his head in the universal 'what the fuck' gesture. The Sheriff raised an eyebrow and Stiles made an affronted noise. "I was in the middle of something!" he finally said after a pause, gesturing to the PowerPoint. He hadn't even made it to the second slide.

"I already knew most of it," the Sheriff rolled his eyes when Stiles' jaw dropped. "Melissa told me a few months ago."

"But yesterday, you…" Stiles trailed off before exclaiming, "You sneaky little sneak!"

His father remained silent, settling into his seat and crossing his arms over his chest as he studied Stiles.

"I'm waiting," was all he said.

Stiles dropped his head into his hands and groaned because  _why was this happening to him_? Stiles took a deep breath and eyed his dad, who cocked his head thoughtfully.

"We're not dating!" Stiles half-shouted in alarm, because he knew what that look meant. "You can forget whatever scheme that's forming in your head to interrogate him because nothing's going on with me and Derek!"

"Nothing?" the Sheriff's voice was skeptical and Stiles glared angrily at him.

"Nothing!" he snapped, slamming his laptop shut and shoving a piece of veggie pizza into his mouth.

The Sheriff stared at him for a moment.

Okay then. That would've been the end of that had the Sheriff not accidentally seen the two together a few days later, arguing over a box of what looked like pancake batter outside the grocery store as he drove past in his cruiser.

"—old you to get the Frosted Flakes, Derek!" Stiles sounded exasperated and the Sheriff cracked a smile when he noticed Derek's resigned expression. He quickly sobered up, however, when he realized it reminded him of the arguments he used to have with Stiles' mother after they had Stiles. "It's healthy, okay? And the puppies," the Sheriff did a double take, because puppies? "Need healthy food!"

"They're old enough to know what they want to eat, and they wanted pancakes," Derek said patiently and Stiles closed his eyes for a moment, making a frustrated noise. The Sheriff had slowed down to a crawl by now and it was more than a miracle neither of them noticed him on the street only a few meters away.

"Fine, you can cook for them," Stiles said, crossing his arms over his chest defiantly.

Derek sighed. "You know I can't cook, Stiles."

"I'm aware," Stiles sniffed, pulling his phone out of his pocket to check the time, his voice getting fainter and fainter as the Sheriff drove further and further away from them. "But I'm not always going to be over to cook, of all things,  _pancakes_  for you and your pack because one, it's unhealthy and two…"

By this time, the Sheriff couldn't hear a thing, but his suspicions had been confirmed. They were arguing about  _food_ , for crying out loud. And the Sheriff assumed the puppies were referring to Derek's betas, because Stiles could be a bit of a smartass that way. If that wasn't a domestic dispute, he didn't know what was.

Now all he had to do was prove it.

+++

"You're inviting Derek for dinner on Saturday."

"Yeaaaaah, no," Stiles said, not even turning around from where his gaze was fixed on his computer screen.

"That wasn't a question, Stiles."

"It's not happening, dad," Stiles replied firmly, still tapping away on his keyboard. The Sheriff cleared his throat and just watched when Stiles spun around, throwing his hands up in the air in exasperation. " _Why_?"

"I just want to ask him a few questions about the supernatural population of Beacon Hills," the Sheriff said casually.

Be cool, and Stiles wouldn't suspect a thing.

Stiles' eyes narrowed.

Or not.

"Fine," Stiles said suspiciously, grabbing his phone and firing off a quick text without removing his gaze from his dad. There was a short silence before Stiles' phone vibrated and Stiles glanced down at it, a brief smile spreading across his face. "He said okay. And if he needs to bring anything."

The Sheriff shook his head with a satisfied smile. "Just himself."

"And a Kevlar vest," Stiles mumbled, more to himself, his eyes dropping to his phone again. His father raised an eyebrow, before rolling his eyes and walking out of Stiles' room, calling over his shoulder,

"He's a werewolf, he obviously doesn't need it."

" _Dad_!"

The indignation in Stiles' voice made him chuckle all the way down to the living room.

+++

The doorbell rang at promptly 7:30 on Saturday and Stiles rushed in from the kitchen as his father got up to answer the door.

"I will never forgive you if you threaten him. I already told you nothing is going on with the two of us," Stiles hissed in a low whisper.

The Sheriff laughed, giving up the pretense that he was there to ask Derek about the 'supernatural population' of the town and didn't even bother lowering his voice, werewolf hearing be damned. "It's okay, I've only got my service weapon. The guns he should be worried about are upstairs."

He swept out of the room, committing Stiles' mortified whimper to memory before schooling his face into a neutral expression and answering the door, where Derek stood awkwardly on the porch, holding a tinfoil-covered baking pan in his hands like a shield.

"Derek."

"I brought double chocolate brownies," Derek coughed, pushing the pan towards the Sheriff as some sort of peace offering.

Before the Sheriff could say anything, Stiles not so gently shoved him out of the way, beaming up at Derek.

"Thanks," he said in lieu of a greeting, before he lifted the foil a little to sniff at them and making a satisfied noise. "Isaac?" he asked.

Derek's brow furrowed. "I can bake."

"What, really?" Stiles sounded pleasantly surprised. "I never knew that!" Derek just shook his head and a slightly awkward silence settled over them.

"Come on in, Derek," the Sheriff said before it got too uncomfortable and Stiles nodded jerkily, stepping out of the doorway to head back into the kitchen and grab the casserole he had made.

"Dad I asked you to set the table," Stiles whined, holding up the casserole dish in mitten-clad hands. "You could've at least grabbed the trivets."

Derek stepped in, rolling up his sleeves and oh, wow, how did Stiles not notice how well Derek cleaned up? He was wearing a light blue button-down and clean jeans (they were more impressive than the fancy shirt, tbh, because Stiles had once seen Derek wear the same gore-splattered pair four days in a row) and Stiles flinched, nearly dropping the pan he was holding when Derek snapped his fingers in his face.

"Stiles," he repeated and,  _awkward_ , Stiles hadn't even realized he was talking. "I said," he continued, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Point me to them and I'll bring them out for you."

"Right, uh, yeah," the words tripped out of Stiles' mouth clumsily before he gestured to the kitchen with the cumbersome dish. "They're in the cupboard above the sink."

Derek nodded and brushed past him to where Stiles had directed, reaching up to peer into the cabinet.

"To the left, I think they should be sort of at the back?"

"Got 'em," Derek called back, before he appeared with placemats and trivets. "Where do you want these?" he asked, waving them a little.

"Just in the middle, please," Stiles smiled in gratitude, finally setting the dish down onto the table with a sigh of relief. "Okay, Derek, you grab the plates and the cutlery and I'll get the rest of the food. Dad,  _you_ ," Stiles eyed him before waving at the table. "Get comfortable and whatever."

The Sheriff snorted, because Stiles could not get more awkward if he tried to win a medal for it. "Gladly. Being me my whiskey."

"Absolutely not," Stiles called out from the kitchen, and the Sheriff eyed Derek when he walked in with plates.

' _Glass cabinet next to the fridge_ ,' he mouthed and Derek looked like a deer caught in headlights before he nodded curtly.

Stiles walked out just as Derek was walking back in and the Sheriff raised an eyebrow at his son's suspicious expression. "I don't know what your endgame here is, but I will find out. And when I do…" he trailed off threateningly and the Sheriff shook his head, not even trying to stop the smile spreading across his face. Stiles glared at him for a couple more seconds before spinning on his heel and mumbling, "Kale. And string beans.  _All_  the string beans."

When Stiles disappeared into the kitchen ("Last time, I promise!"), Derek took a seat furthest away from the Sheriff, whipped out the bottle of Jack and sliding it over, where it was currently sitting proudly next to the Sheriff's glass. Stiles walked back in with a salad bowl and his expression darkened as he noticed it.

"Betrayal," he muttered to Derek, settling down next to him and shooting them both a tentative smile. "Uh, yay?"

That seemed to break the tension and Derek snorted, reaching over to serve casserole to Stiles.

"It smells good," he said once he had given the Sheriff a helping and was piling some for himself.

"Don't sound so surprised," Stiles snarked back, though there was no hiding the pleased lilt in his voice.

The only sounds for the next few minutes were the gentle clinking of silverware onto their plates and Stiles was surprised to find that despite the silence, everyone seemed to be comfortable, no one glaring at anyone or any awkwardness. Which is of course when his father decides to clear his throat, swallowing down a spoonful of the stew.

"Derek," the Sheriff started and Stiles would've laughed at the split-second flash of fear over Derek's face if he hadn't had the exact same expression on his own. "You have a job?"

Derek swallowed and took a sip of water before nodding. "Yes, sir."

He didn't offer anything else and there was another pause before Stiles nudged him with his shoulder.

"I didn't know you had a job."

"I'm a book editor."

Stiles looked delighted. "You are? Dude, that's awesome!"

"You work from home then?" the Sheriff asked, glaring at Stiles, who wilted back into his seat and shoved a spoonful of casserole into his mouth with a mutinous expression.

"Yes, sir," Derek said politely, before taking another sip of his water.

"When did you start dating my son?"

Derek choked, his eyes widening and water spluttering over his plate as Stiles said, " _Dad_!" in a horrified whisper.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry," Stiles breathed to Derek, grabbing a bunch of paper napkins to mop up the liquid spreading across the table as Derek coughed. "This is not okay, dad," Stiles hissed.

"I'm only looking out for you," the Sheriff shrugged unapologetically. Stiles growled a little in frustration and opened his mouth to threaten his dad with steamed carrots for the rest of his life when Derek exhaled softly.

"We're not dating," he said in a quiet voice and Stiles jabbed his finger in his father's direction.

"You see?  _Now_  do you believe me? How many times do I have to—"

"Not yet, anyway," Derek added and Stiles spluttered to a stop. The Sheriff merely raises an eyebrow and waits.

The room is deadly silent for a moment before, " _What_?!"

Derek looked confused and a little bit hurt. "I thought, I mean… we never said anything but I assumed that's where we were going?"

"I had no idea you even  _liked_  guys! And even then, why would you like  _me_?" he sounded hysterical and his father groaned, slapping a palm to his forehead because,  _his kid_.

Derek sounds horribly lost. "We go grocery shopping together?" he said it like a question and Stiles slammed his head down onto the table. "I thought you knew!"

"It was fairly obvious," the Sheriff interjected.

"Oh my god dad, stop!" Stiles almost wails, his voice muffled by the table before he jerked his head up to stare, his eyes manic. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"I kept asking you when it happened!"

"I didn't know," Stiles complained before he glared at Derek. "Why haven't you tried to kiss me then?" he demanded, ignoring the pained noise the Sheriff made, though he felt a rush of satisfaction when he noticed the tips of Derek's ears flushing pink.

"I…" Derek trailed off, unsure, before sparing a look to the Sheriff. "You wanna do this now? I mean," he coughed, his blush spreading across his cheekbones. "You wanna have this discussion now?"

After thinking about it for a moment, Stiles shook his head, before reaching over to squeeze Derek's hand in his own. "For the record though, I would totally go out with you if you asked."

"When," Derek corrected him with a small smile. "And I—now, yes?"

Stiles beamed. "Like, right now, you mean? Yes, absolutely."

Stiles slumped back in his chair, all of his muscles suddenly relaxing before he turned to his dad with a beatific smile. "How about we start over?" he said and the Sheriff resisted the urge to drown himself in his whiskey.

+++

"Oh my god," Stiles gasped when Derek pulled away, resting their foreheads together. "We could've been doing this for  _weeks_."

Derek huffed out a laugh before nipping lightly on Stiles' bottom lip, pressing their mouths together once, twice and left a lingering kiss the third time.

"Hey, uh," Stiles mumbled against Derek's mouth, his eyes fluttering shut despite himself, the feel of Derek's warm hands on his hips making him feel slightly giddy. "So, I turned 18 a few weeks ago…" he trailed off, letting the words speak for themselves and his hips twitching in an aborted jerk when Derek's grip tightened, his fingers digging into the meat of Stiles' waist.

"I'm aware," Derek managed, his voice kind of breathless and Stiles repressed a happy little shudder, because  _he_  did that. "You had a cake and you left crumbs all over my couch."

Stiles ignored him. "You wanna?" he whispered suggestively, pulling away to look Derek in the eye, his breath nearly catching in his throat at Derek's gorgeousness, blinking his iridescent eyes slowly, his mouth red and wet. In case Derek didn't catch his drift, Stiles rolled his hips luxuriously, biting hard on his lip to keep his groan in. Derek didn't seem to care, letting out a loud moan before he nodded.

"Just… here," he muttered, pressing Stiles more firmly against the wall of his bedroom and dropping to his knees.

"Oh my god," Stiles breathed, his head thunking against the plaster when Derek smirked up at him, his clever fingers toying with the waistband of Stiles' jeans. "This isn't going to take long at all," he lamented, his breath hitching when Derek pops the button and slides the zipper down excruciatingly slowly.

"We have all the time in the— _Stiles_ ," Derek groaned, resting his head on Stiles' hipbones when he found that Stiles gone commando.

Stiles let out a shaky laugh. "I couldn't find any clean boxers, so I just went without, I mean I didn't expect—oh my  _god_ ," he squeaked, fisting his hands in Derek's surprisingly soft hair when he licked a long, wet stripe up his length. He gripped a little tighter and rolled his eyes when Derek looked up to smirk at him, before he fitted his mouth over the head of Stiles' cock and  _sucked_.

Stiles would probably be embarrassed about how easy it was to get him off but right now he was too busy coming with a loud moan, his hips jerking in Derek's grip.

“Sorry, virgin, sorry,” he panted, opening his eyes and then blinked hard when he saw Derek had gotten up, his face buried in Stiles’ shoulder, mouthing at Stiles’ collarbone. “Do you want me to, uh…”

He broke off when Derek came with a low groan, splattering over Stiles’ belly.

They stood there, gripping each other for a long moment, before Stiles started giggling uncontrollably, his mouth brushing the light sheen of sweat dusting Derek's shoulder.

“What?” Derek asked, pulling back to look at Stiles in the eye.

“Nothing man, I just love you.”

Derek froze and Stiles winced, pushing ineffectively at where Derek's arms were wrapped around his body, and trying to untangle himself.

“Sorry, that was… Yeah, no,” Stiles shook his head. “I don't know why I said that, sorry.”

“Did you mean it?” Derek surged forward suddenly, pinning Stiles more firmly against the wall. “Did you mean it?” he repeated, more seriously, his gaze flicking from Stiles’ eyes down to his chest and back up, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

Stiles swallowed harshly, before nodding slowly, as if to himself and straightening up. “I mean it. I love you.”

“Good,” is all Derek says, before he turns away to hide a smile from Stiles’ offended whisper.

“You’re supposed to say it back!”

He turns back, a smirk playing across his face to look at Stiles’ hopeful expression and he can’t help the rush of fondness he feels for this loud-mouthed, obnoxious kid who got under skin and shakes his head.

“Me too.”

Stiles rolls his eyes, but he can’t hide the blush spreading across his cheekbones and the way his eyes light up in happiness.

“Moment-ruiner,” Stiles hisses before pressing a kiss over Derek's heart.

**Author's Note:**

> say hey on [tumblr](http://officerstilinskihale.tumblr.com/).
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> Not taking prompts at the moment because I am swamped but you can message me anytime and I have a to-write list in case you desperately wanted something written down :) thank you again guys i love you!


End file.
